


On Her Majesty's Secret Service

by Aviss



Series: Spies Like Us [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - James Bond Fusion, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, F/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-08-12 00:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20162332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: Brienne's been working for Westero's Special Intelligence Service for a year when she's given a seduction mission. Her Quartermaster is not happy about this.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what happens when I get stuck on something I'm writing and can't seem to advance. I start another fic even knowing I shouldn't.

The first time they assign her a honeypot mission, Brienne laughs so hard she snorts all the water she was drinking over the brief a startled secretary has handed her, quickly grabbing some tissues to try and dry it. She doesn't believe they have seriously considered her for this mission and laughs at what is surely a clerical mistake. 

Her Quartermaster looks at her, his eyebrow arched in that infuriating way that never fails to make her hot under the collar, and Brienne slides the thin folder in his direction so he can have a laugh as well. Seven knows he needs it after the last mission. 

"Maybe you should take this one, J," she says, focused on his face while he's skimming the brief. She catalogues every tick and expression, putting them away inside the vault she keeps deep in her heart for those difficult moments when death is more likely than success, knowing his face is certainly the last thing she'll want to see. She sees the way his dark blond eyebrows lift on his forehead until they are obscured by his golden curls, his green eyes wide and amused, his perfect lips ticking up on the corners, a faint flush staining his sharp cheeks. 

He looks up at her, and he's trying not to laugh. "I'm retired, Tarth," he replies, sliding the folder back to her with his one good hand while he waves the fingers of his prosthetic at her.

"Not retired enough, you're still here," she retorts, challenging, arching up one of her eyebrows. The secretary's looking between the two of them like they are a vial of widfire about to explode and takes a couple of steps back. She's obviously new, and won't last long in the position if she doesn't grow some spine and learns to recognize friendly banter.

"Someone has to keep you alive, Tarth. It's a rotten job, but someone has to do it."

Brienne opens her mouth for another retort, it dies before passing her lips at the sound of a throat clearing. They turn as one, chagrined, to their boss. They had forgotten her presence in the room.

"If you two are quite finished with your double act," Lady O says, the disapproving expression on her wizened face failing to mask her amusement. "You will see you haven't been assigned this mission by mistake."

Brienne picks up the folder again, opening it and reading the whole thing this time. She had stopped before when she read it was a honeypot, but now she finishes the damned thing. She feels her stomach clench, unease washing over her. Her mark has a cache of wildfire he's flogging past the Wall and a penchant for big and strong women. It doesn't matter that she's ugly and never anyone's type, Brienne is definitely big and strong, and has learned how to alter her features with make-up and prosthetics well enough to pass for a normal looking, if bland, woman, though she dislikes the effort it takes for what amounts to a lie. It's good enough for missions, though her height and build made it impossible for her to be unremarkable.

"_Absolutely not_," Jaime is saying, and Brienne can understand the feeling, though she's surprised by his vehemence. She doesn't want to do this, but she knows it's part of some missions. She just believed it wasn't a part that would ever be assigned to her. Shows what she knows. "Send Targaryen or Stark, they are very adept at seduction. That's not a mission for Tarth." He sounds adamant and almost offended at the suggestion, nothing of the previous good mood in his tone.

Brienne bristles at that, her face flushed in humiliation. "Because of course, nobody is going to be attracted to me? Who am I going to seduce?" she says, unable to keep the bitterness in her voice. 

He turns to her, eyes wide. "Wench, that's not--"

"Quartermaster, as you have so aptly mentioned before, you're retired," Lady O cuts in, her voice several degrees colder than before, any trace of amusement gone. "And I am the boss. If I assign a mission to Tarth, it's because the mission is for her."

He opens his mouth to protest again, but Brienne speaks over him. "Understood," she says, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "When am I to depart?"

Lady O sighs, her expression softening when she looks at Brienne. "You leave in the morning, all information is in the brief. Get equipped and get some rest." Brienne nods, knowing she's been dismissed. Jaime doesn't move, glaring silently at the old woman. "Tarth," Lady O says before she can leave her office. "You have to get invited to his house and plant the bugs, you don't have to sleep with him if you don't want to. Get some of those Sevendamned pills from medical and use them if you prefer."

Brienne nods once, and with a last look at Jaime, who's not even looking at her, gets out of the office. The moment the door latches, she can hear raised voices coming from inside. She's tempted to stay and try to listen, but Lady O's secretary is staring at her from her desk, and Brienne forces herself to walk away. 

She goes straight to the gym and changes into her workout clothes. She has some spare energy to burn if she doesn't want to strangle her Quartermaster when she goes to pick up her equipment.

She puts on her headphones, tapes her hands and goes to the sandbag to practice some of her kickboxing movements. She can perfectly imagine Jaime's face in place of the bag, his smug mouth and glittering eyes, and how he believes her too ugly for a seduction. She wants to punch him for real, wants to curl into a small ball of misery and cry. 

She's been working for Westero's Special Intelligence Service for the past year, and it's the job she had never known she wanted. She was training for the Police Department in the Riverlands two years before when she crossed paths with Jaime Lannister and had become irreparably entangled in his mission. He had lost his hand and his active agent status during that time, saving her from rape at the hands of the gang he was pursuing. He had kept his life and finished his mission after that only because of Brienne and sheer spite, as she kept egging him on when she saw him falter until they had captured or killed every single member of the Bloody Mummers.

He had recruited her for the SIS afterwards, and they had, somehow, become friends during the year it took for her to finish her training and get ready to step into the job. He had been going through surgeries for his missing hand, getting the highly experimental prosthetic he had now, and finishing an engineering degree that got put aside when he got recruited by the agency. He stepped into the role of Quartermaster at the same time as Brienne started working there, something she has never believed was a coincidence. He had been ready for retirement after his maiming, but they are as stubborn as each other, and they are a great team.

Falling in love with him had been as unplanned as becoming a spy, and twice as painful as any bullet wound. She knows what she looks like, knows what _he_ looks like, and needs no reminders of what an impossibility the two of them together would be. But sometimes he looks at her in such a way she forgets he's unattainable, sometimes he says something that could be interpreted as flirting if he was speaking to someone else, sometimes he brushes his good hand against hers and smiles when passing her equipment, and then spend the entire mission in her ear, guiding her to safety when needed and keeping a funny stream of comments when she's bored. It makes her hope, foolishly, only for him to dash those hopes as cruelly as he's done today. 

Brienne does a roundhouse kick that has the bag swinging wildly and turns to find Jaime there, staring at her with that frown on his face that means he's lost the argument with Lady O. 

"I have your things, come to my office once you've changed clothes, I want to go home and I have to equip you first," he says, and Brienne is startled to realize she has been at it for the past two hours. Two hours in which he has probably been waiting for her in his office. 

"I'll be there in ten," she says, refusing to feel guilty. He's the reason she's in the gym, after all. And he could have delegated to someone else, but he insists on always giving her the equipment in person. Same as he insists on being the primary Quartermaster for her missions, delegating only in P when he's forced to rest by Lady O. 

The Quartermaster section is almost empty, except for the few people on shift or running missions. It is late, and she feels very tired. She enters his office after a quick knock, Jaime is sitting on his desk, a small box in his hand. 

"Is that my gun?" she asks, and Jaime nods, handing her the box. Inside there's a sleek pistol, a Bronn Semi 3P, the latest model to replace the one she lost in the previous mission. It fits perfectly in her hand, and the moment she touches the grip she hears a soft hum and sees a green light flash. 

"It's coded to your palmprint so it can't be used against you," he says, something hard in his voice. Brienne fights the urge to rub her side where a bullet wound is still a bit tender from her last mission. She had been shot with her own gun, a rookie mistake, and could still hear how Jaime's voice had turned deadly quiet in her ear the moment she had screamed, the urgency of his tone as he commanded emergency services and first responders to converge on her location while she fought for her life, and how he got Brandon Stark to hack into every single camera available to ascertain her condition. "There is also the usual earpiece, with GPS tracker, and the new generation bugs you have to plant, almost invisible and with a greater range than the previous ones. You have enough to cover a normal sized house, try to also get some on him or his wallet." He hands her another, smaller box "I've also taken the liberty to obtaining the pills from medical," he gives her a serious look. "_Use them_. I tried, but have been unable to convince Lady O to assign the mission to someone else."

Brienne feels her hackles rise again. "Thanks for your confidence in my abilities," she says snidely, narrowing her eyes at him. "Of course it's not my abilities you doubt, but my appeal. Don't worry, J, with enough make-up _even I can seduce a Wildling_."

He sighs, long suffering, his lips pursed. "It's not about that, you stubborn wench. I never said you couldn't do it, haven't you said before you dislike them?" he says, and he doesn't have the right to sound so annoyed, not with the way he has hurt her.

It's easy for him to say it's not about her looks, but she knows the truth; she's ugly, and she can't allow herself to forget it. She was selected for the job because of her physical abilities, because there is nobody stronger or better trained than her, and she excels with weapons. But she had been very close to being dismissed because of her looks, Councilman Tarly had tried to have her fired the moment he saw her, though apparently, he had been trying for years to get all women dismissed from the SIS, the misogynistic asshole.

"I don't choose my missions any more than you used to, Lannister. Have you forgotten already? You must have been very popular with the honeypots with those pretty looks, did you like them then?" she says, and the moment the words are out of her mouth she regrets them. Jaime flinches, his hands clenched by his side, but he says nothing. 

He doesn't need to, the hurt in his eyes say more than enough.

Nobody, with possibly the exception of Melissandre, likes honeypots. And she knows Jaime is not an exception. They have spoken about it, about how it made him feel dirty and no better than a whore to have to sleep with women, and the occasional man, for the mission. It had been required of him in the service of Her Majesty, his twin sister. And his first lover, he had confessed during his feverish days in the Riverlands when they met; he had left his life and dreams for her when she told him to join her in King's Landing as she married the King. In exchange, she had been the one to get him the position in the SIS, never close enough to her for more than a few days, and almost never alone together. She had also been the one who had volunteered him in the first instance for the missions he despised the most. Jaime had never understood how his sister could say to love him and then do something like that, and it had driven a wedge between them, one that was still there wider than ever.

Brienne has forgotten, her own insecurities have blinded her, of course, he doesn't want her in that mission, not if they always made him feel that way.

"Jaime," she begins, an apology on her lips. 

It's too late now, though. He's closed off, his eyes like two chips of ice where they contemplate her. He picks up one last item from his desk and hands it to her, making sure their hands don't touch at all.

"These are your travel papers, Tarth," he says, and his voice is a cold as the Wall and twice as remote. "You fly straight to Winterfell and from there travel by train to Eastwatch where you have reserved a hotel and a tour of the Wall. Your Wilding is a guide of the Wall, so you'll have plenty of time to seduce him. Enjoy your mission."

"Jaime--"

He gets down from his desk and heads to the door. "P will be your primary Quartermaster for the duration," he says, and that's when she knows she's really fucked up. He's never allowed any other Quartermaster as primary. "Goodnight, Tarth. Get some rest," he adds, his voice soft and it's that last bit what almost makes her cry.

"Goodnight, J," she says, getting out before she can see the misery in her expression. "_I'm sorry._"

He doesn't reply, just closes the door after her. 

… 

Jaime closes the door to his office and presses his forehead against it, taking deep breaths to try and regain his calm

Fuck Olenna Tyrell for being the most stubborn bitch in the Seven Kingdoms, and fuck Brienne Tarth for good measure. What does he care if she wants to sleep with a Wilding for a mission? What is it to him what she does with her body? Maybe she wants to get rid of that pesky virginity he got maimed for? Maybe her type is treasonous wilding instead of incestuous cripple and Jaime's been too infatuated to realize before?

He sighs, the fight completely gone from him. Olenna has accused him of being jealous the moment Brienne was out of her office, and Jaime hadn't even been able to refute the truth of it. 

He's jealous, has been blazing with it the moment Olenna had said the mission was real and Brienne is exactly the mark's type, but it's more than that. He knows these kinds of missions are necessary for their line of work, knows sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good, he had just hoped Brienne would never need to make that sacrifice, would never feel dirty and used in such a way. In this Jaime has always been quite happy that Brienne isn't considered typically attractive. 

He refuses to call her ugly, though objectively Jaime knows that's what she is. 

To him, she's nothing short of perfect. She has the most beautiful eyes, a shade of blue only found in the waters surrounding the island which name she carries, lips that are big and lush and Jaime wants to kiss continuously. She has countless freckles, and he has spent many a night wondering how far down do her blushes travel. And her body is a work of art; she's tall and broad and muscled in all the right places, with legs for miles and thighs thick and strong enough to strangle a man. Jaime would happily die between them if given half a chance. She has broader shoulders than Jaime and her arms are corded with muscle, though she has no breasts to speak of and little to no waist. But she's magnificent, and in his eyes, beautiful.

That's the reason Jaime had failed to understand why she was so angry as to spend two hours hitting the bags. He knows she's insecure and touchy about her looks and sometimes he attributes her lack of response to his flirting to this. Other times he believes it's because she can't possibly care for a retired cripple. 

He had believed she knew him better than to assume that from him, he had obviously been wrong. _You must have been very popular with the honeypots with those pretty looks, did you like them then? _He still can feel the words like a punch to the gut, can feel the hands and mouths of so many marks. It had always made him nauseous, afterwards, had made him want to submerge himself in the hottest water available and scrub himself raw. Not even being covered in blood and other fluids made him feel as dirty as sleeping with a mark did, and he had only done it when it was strictly necessary. Those little pills he has provided Brienne with have been his best friends for years, odourless and tasteless and knocking out a person in two seconds flat.

He just wanted to spare Brienne the whole experience, but he can see how his intervening with Olenna and insisting the mission be assigned to someone else could be interpreted by someone as touchy as Brienne as him not believing her capable.

He sighs, there is nothing he can do now, and he's still angry with her. 

Tomorrow, he'll take over her mission as soon as she lands in Winterfell and they will talk, and both of them will apologize, but for tonight he's going home to get some rest.

He's going to need it.

…


	2. Chapter 2

Brienne burrows into her coat the moment she disembarks her plane in Winterfell. It's always winter up here, and though she doesn't usually mind the cold, it's not the same down in King's Landing or the Riverlands, where it snows every few years and never as much as here. It's never this insidious cold that finds any tiny crevice and seeps into the bones, making her wish she could have refused the mission and stayed in the south where it's warmer.

She focuses on the snow and the cold to avoid thinking about Jaime and yesterday's fight, the real reason she wishes to refuse this mission, though in truth she's been able to think about nothing else. She feels terrible, she's really fucked up and yes, he was being stubborn and meddling where he wasn't supposed to, but he was doing it out of concern, not because he didn't believe in her. She had just been projecting her insecurities on him and snapped in the worst way, completely forgetting he has his own reasons to loathe honeypots and want her away from them.

And now she's going to have P in her ear the entire mission, and while she likes Pod because he's a nice kid, he's not Jaime. She's never not had Jaime in her ear during a mission, she's not gone a day without speaking to him in one way or another since they met, and she knows it's pathetic, but she already misses him. 

She gets a cab to the train station and then her train to Eastwatch, she still has three hours ride, the perfect time to study her cover and touch base with P. She eats a very unsatisfying sandwich while she reads her brief, making mental notes of things like her mark's known associates and previous convictions. The man, a big burly redhead called Tormund Giantsbane, doesn't appear to have had many brushes with the law. At least this side of the Wall. Drunken disorderly and assault, as part of a bar fight apparently, and nothing else worth notice. He's younger than Jaime but older than Brienne, divorced with no children, and his last known girlfriend was almost as tall as Brienne though not as strong or blonde. She was young, though, so her cover as a student travelling during gap year should be solid enough for him. 

With a sigh, she taps her earbud to switch it on. She can't put this off any longer. 

"Quartermaster, this is Tarth," she says, glad that her car is basically empty at this time of day. 

There is no crackle in her ear to signify the line has connected, their technology is too good for it, the voice on the other side clear as if he was sitting next to her. "Good afternoon wench, how was your flight?"

"_Jaime_," she breathes out, a tension she hadn't been aware she's carrying flowing out of her, her heart tripping all over itself. Brienne can't help the smile on her face as she closes her eyes and tilts her head back against the seat. "I'm sorry about yesterday," she says. She owes him an apology, even if the fact that he's directing her mission must mean he has forgiven her. At least enough to care for her personally.

She hears a sigh and can picture his long suffering expression perfectly. "So am I, I'm sorry that I meddled where I wasn't needed, I know you're good enough to complete any mission." They stay in silence for a moment listening to each other breathing before he speaks again. Jaime's never been one to abide silences. "Now that's out of the way, I've been studying your brief and there is something I don't like about this Tormund person. I have Bran digging but his online footprint is minimal."

The way he says Tormund's name, as if it's a curse, strikes something inside of her. If they were different people she would think he's jealous. Except there is no way that's the case, and besides this is just a mission. 

"He's a Wilding, there isn't much on him from before he crossed the Wall and I doubt he has social media."

"That's the thing, he crossed two years ago, but there is no explanation why. Most people who cross are either fleeing from someone on that side or moving towards something or someone. To cross only to stay at the Wall. I don't like it. Be very careful."

Brienne feels warmed for his concern, she can defend herself, though. "Of course. Will you contact me as soon as you find something?" 

He laughs, that rich chuckle that always gives her a fluttery feeling in her stomach. "I'm not coming off this line, wench. I barely slept last night," because of her, he doesn't say but she knows, because of the way she hurt him and the memories she must have unearthed."You have to keep me entertained lest I fall asleep on my desk."

"What do you want to do?"

"Let's play a game." She's not surprised by this request, regardless of how many years he has on her, Jaime's still a child sometimes. "I spy with my little eye," she says and he burst out laughing, which was what she wanted, the sound rich and warming her better than a mug of steaming tea. "It begins with an S."

"_Snow_, in Winterfell? Certainly not!" 

She laughs at his tone. "I spy with my little eye. It begins with an M."

He hums for a few seconds and then exclaims triumphantly. "_More snow_!" 

They laugh, the previous day's unpleasantness completely forgiven and Brienne could happily spend the rest of her days just like this, making Jaime laugh and talking to him of nothing important, just listening to his deep voice and his bad jokes. He had not laughed this happily or made jokes when they met, using only sarcasm and barbs that had made Brienne dislike him profoundly, and he had definitely not laughed at all when the Mummers had cut off his hand, she would die a happy woman if she never hears screams like that from him. Brienne much prefers this version of him, the one that emerged when he shed his active agent status, the childish one that teases and makes lame jokes, whose edges have been blunted by some miracle. 

She prefers it, but will probably die of longing.

The rest of the way to Eastwatch flies by, and by the time she checks in her hotel they have fallen silent, though Brienne has not closed the connection. Jaime is going about his day on the other side of the line, which he has also kept open. It should be uncomfortable, this lack of privacy, but It's not. Not when it's Jaime. She finds it comforting. 

The hotel it's nothing to write home about once she gets there, small and blocky and full of backpackers. It's part of her cover, of course, but she much prefers when her cover is a businesswoman than when it's a backpacker. Eastwatch is not a holiday destination except for history enthusiasts that come to see where the Wall was breached during the last War for the Dawn. The hole is still there, big blocks of ice scattered around a rip in what should have been an inexpugnable structure, it was never repaired and has become something of a tourist attraction. 

Brienne is exhausted, travel always has that effect on her, but she wants to check one of the places marked as usual haunts for Tormund, see if he can see him and be seen by him before her tour. She checks her gun is secure in her handbag and all her papers are in their right place and leaves, Jaime talking to Pod about another mission in the background.

She finds the place immediately; Eastwatch is small enough that there are only a couple of bars, this one looks a bit rundown but it has a sign saying they serve food until late, so it works for her. She takes her travel guide out of the bag, ties her hair in a careless bun and puts on glasses she doesn't need. She has changed clothes in the hotel just in case, leaving her sensible travel clothes and putting on skinny jeans and heeled boots that make her even taller, a sleeveless T-shirt a bit too small that emphasizes her arms and shoulders under her big, padded jacket, and even applied a bit of makeup to disguise her million freckles.

The moment she enters the bar she can feel all eyes on her. "You've gone to check the bar?" Jaime asks her in her ear, probably picking up on the noise of the place. There is some kind of metal band playing, loud enough to be picked up by her earbud and Brienne just hums her assent. She takes stock of the place, scanning the faces around to see if Tormund is there and sees him in the back with a stein of ale in his hand. "Is he there?" She hums again noting the way Jaime has gone silent on the other side of the line, the background noise of his people working around him receding until it's gone. He's in his office. "Be careful, Brienne," he says but doesn't close the line. 

Brienne goes to the bar and orders a beer and a big burger for herself, leaning forward to better impress her height while she reads the specialities on the blackboard behind the bored-looking waitress. She can feel the moment she catches his eye, the way he focuses on her, and forces herself not to react. She takes her beer and goes to an empty table by the back wall, she takes out her guide and starts reading while drinking her beer. 

She can feel Tormund's eyes on her and looks up from her book, straight into his blue eyes. He smiles widely at her and Brienne forces a shy curl to her lips before she lowers her eyes back to her book, imagining Jaime looking at her in that way to force a flush to her face. 

She gets her food then, and eats hungrily under his continuous stare. It's rude and irritating, and if she didn't need to seduce the man she would have already snapped at him. Instead, she swallows her food helped with her beer and keeps smiling when Tormund approaches her table with a fresh beer for her a new stein of ale for himself. Seeing him up close he's not unattractive, if you like the wild and unkempt look. He has a bushy copper beard and longish red hair, his face is lined and tanned, probably from the frigid wind atop the wall and the sun's reflection on the snow, and he's almost as tall as Brienne herself and powerfully built. 

He's not her type, though. Not that Brienne has a type, being in love with Jaime doesn't count as having a type because he's not like other men.

"I haven't seen you around here before," Tormund says, offering her a bottled beer with the cap still on. She smiles at him and takes it, nodding to the chair in front of her. "And I wouldn't have missed a big woman like you."

"Thank you," she says, shyly. "I just arrived in town." She closes her guide, calling his attention to it, the picture of the broken wall clear in the cover of the Arya's Guide for Modern Explorers.

_'Is that him?'_ she hears Jaime in her ear, his voice sharp. _'You weren't supposed to make contact until tomorrow.' _Brienne ignores him, focusing her attention on the man in front of him. She can't respond to Jaime anyway, and he knows it. 

"You come on your own?" Tormund asks, and Brienne nods. 

"I'm travelling around the Kingdoms and I just have to see the Wall." She lets some enthusiasm into her voice and eyes. "I've seen it from my hotel room window and it's incredible."

"Just the Wall? What about beyond? That's where real men are, North of the Wall." Tormund smiles at her, and Brienne shyly smiles back. She knows she should be flattered that a man like him is attracted to her, ugly as she is, but she really isn't. He's no different than all the rest who only see her height and width and features and deem her unfuckable, except for him it hits in a way that means he'd fuck her, but doesn't care about her beyond her appearance. Not really.

'If_ you like men who've never seen a comb and still hunt their own food and think the wheel was a great discovery_,' Jaime grumbles and Brienne's smile at his annoyed tone is genuine.

"Too cold for me beyond the Wall," she says, taking a drink of her beer. 

"I'd keep you warm, I'm a man from the true North, I have enough fire for the two of us," Tormund says, waggling his eyebrows and Brienne finally laughs, more at the awfulness of the gesture and words than anything. Tormund doesn't mind, smiling cheekily at her, and she waits to hear what Jaime has to say but he's gone silent. 

"What are you doing in the South, then?" She asks Tormund while she finishes her drink. 

"I followed a woman, big like you, but she went too far South for me, to Winterfell. I need ice and snow, no like you kneelers down South."

"Winterfell's in the North," Brienne says, amused. Jaime is still silent on his side of the line, and Brienne wonders whether he's busy with something important. She misses his comments.

"Nah, not for us. I have the true North in me," he looks her up and down appreciatively. Brienne has to fight not to squirm. "I would go South for a woman like you, though."

She makes herself blush and looks down. "I'm flattered, but you don't know me."

"You can come with me tonight and we'll get to know each other very well," he suggests and Brienne should say yes. This is the reason she's in Eastwatch, to get access to this man's house and person so they can continue their investigation. But she doesn't think she can, and she hasn't brought the pills with her.

_'Don't_,' Jaime says, the word curt and harsh, as if it had been ripped from his mouth against his will.

"I arrived today and I have a tour of the Wall tomorrow at sunup," she says instead, she needs to have an excuse to say no if she wants to be invited again, and his face lights up. "I should get some rest." She signals to the waitress for the bill.

"I'll be your guide! Sunrise tour tomorrow is mine!" He sounds genuinely pleased by this, and Brienne would feel bad except he's a suspected terrorist. "I'll give you the _best tour_," he adds, seductively and she has to pretend to be charmed, even with his truly appalling lines.

She pays her bill and stands up. "I will see you tomorrow then? Who do I ask for?"

"Tormund," he says, standing up and extending his hand. "You can ask for me anytime."

Brienne takes it. "I'm Brienne."

He pulls on her hand and she stumbles forward, almost falling on him. She could have stopped herself, one doesn't learn as many martial arts as she knows without getting an uncanny sense of balance, but she lets herself fall forward. Tormund puts his hands on her shoulders and plants a big, noisy kiss on her cheek. Brienne bites down on the urge to cringe and rub her cheek clean, more for the noise, which Jaime must have heard, than anything else.

She pushes at him with a faint smile and forces another blush, he smiles in response. "See you tomorrow, Brienne."

She does rub her cheek once she's outside, her smile fallen form her face the moment her back was turned, and whatever noise she makes prompts Jaime. "_What was that_?"

"Nothing."

"Sounded like a kiss, wench," he insists, his voice sharp. "Did that guy kiss you already?"

Brienne doesn't like his tone. He's back to the same way he spoke when he was in Lady O's office. And it might be a concern for her instead of what she had believed before, but she's not helpless, and it rankles. She doesn't want him to be concerned for her.

"Then that means the mission is going well, doesn't it? I have to seduce him, and he doesn't care I'm ugly, only that I'm big," she says, entering her hotel. Suddenly she can't keep her eyes open; she was up most of the night with her own thoughts and regrets for company, and then she had a flight and a train ride, and now she's had two beers and had to openly flirt with a mark. She's drained. "I'm going to bed, Jaime, I'm done. _Tarth out_." She clicks off her earbud before he can protest and goes to bed, falling almost face first on it. 

She's out as soon as her head hits the pillow

…

Jaime curses himself for a fool when he hears the distinctive click that means the line has been disconnected from the other side. He barks an order to have one of the hackers confirm Brienne's in her room and gets the live feeds of the cameras surrounding the hotel sent to his terminal.

He ignores, as is his wont, the looks the other Quartermasters send him. He outranks them all, and they defer to him as the only one with field experience and as Head Armourer. Even Gendry, the weaponry expert, a rough street gang kid who was recruited from the Brotherhood, looks up to him for some reason. There are moments, though, in which Brienne is usually involved, they will look at him with an expression that means they can't believe he's this stupid. Like now.

He knows he's messed up with Brienne again. He's been unable to help himself, not when she's gone to look for that Wilding as soon as she's arrived in Eastwatch. 

Bran sends the feed from the bar's camera to his computer unprompted as soon as she's in and Jaime dislikes the man immediately; the way his eyes widen when Brienne enters the bar, how they travel up and down her body, almost stripping her of her clothes with his look. Brienne looks good with those tight jeans and T-shirt, her hair pulled back from her face and those cute glasses she's wearing, and Jaime wants her then, has wanted to kiss her and fold her into his arms and has also wanted to have her writhing under him for so long he doesn't know how not to, especially when she looks so good. 

He always wants Brienne, not just when she looks like this.

The look Tormund gives her is different, it's the kind of look Jaime has seen many times directed at his sister and himself, and he doesn't like it anymore for it being directed at Brienne. She deserves all the admiration, Jaime will always be the first person to believe that, but the look on that man's face isn't that. It's lust, pure and undeniable, and it has nothing to do with her beautiful eyes, or her steel core, or her honour and her amazing capacity for love. It's so much less than she deserves.

Tormund just wants to fuck her, and Jaime's amused at his flirting and making snarky comments until Brienne laughs. It's her genuine laugh, Jaime can't see her because the table she picked is in a camera blind spot, but he can perfectly picture the way she would have thrown her head back, the long line of her neck on display and begging to be kissed. He just listens in silence to Tormund's terrible flirting and Brienne's shy responses, and it doesn't matter that it's for a mission, that Jaime knows she has to flirt with the man, he's still jealous and unable to hide it when he hears the unmistakable sound of a kiss. 

And now Brienne is upset with his again and has closed the line, and Jaime feels like an idiot again.

Maybe is not just for the mission, maybe he really is her type and Jaime's not. He's definitely younger than Jaime and has two hands, and if he wasn't a suspect in their investigation, he also has no problems openly flirting with her and showing Brienne he wants her. 

Jaime groans and hits his head against his desk. 

"It's sad to see a grown man like you act like a lovelorn teenager." Jaime turns at the voice to see Olenna at his office's open door. He's not heard her open it, lost in his own thoughts. "You ever going to tell that girl how you feel, or are just going to act like a jealous idiot?"

He glares at her, not that it has any effect on his boss. She's known him for too long to be impressed by his glares. "Anything you need, Lady O?"

"I was told you've been here since this morning, is that right?" she asks, and Jaime looks at the clock to see it's past nine. He should have left hours ago but couldn't imagine not being in his office while Brienne's on a mission.

"Just doing my job," he replies snidely, Olenna narrows her eyes at him, unamused.

"Don't get that tone with me, boy." Jaime bristles, he hates when she calls him boy, but he guesses everyone's a boy to her. "You are to go home and get some rest," she says firmly as if she knew he intended to stay in his office tonight so he can be ready when Brienne gets back online at sunrise. "You'll give the feeds to P for tonight and you won't come back until tomorrow. Or I'm taking you off this op and locking the two of you in a room until you talk when she gets back, am I clear?"

Jaime stands from his desk and stares down at her but the old bint doesn't even blink. "Crystal," he finally says and heads to the door. 

"Earbud," she says, extending her hand when Jaime tries to walk past her, and he sighs and takes it out, putting it in her palm. They leave the office, Jaime grumbling the entire time. "I swear, sometimes I feel more like the principal of a kindergarten than the head of an Intelligence service." Her voice follows him as he walks outside.

The moment he's out of sight, Jaime takes out the replacement earbud from his pocket and puts it on.

...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this kept getting longer and I still wasn't close to the conclusion, so yeah I had to up the chapter count. Conclusion on the next one, I promise!

The view from the top of the Wall is nothing short of breathtaking, regardless of the company. Waking up at the crack of dawn and needing to bundle up in so many layers against the cold she feels like an onion has been worth it if only to see the sun rising over the snowy expanse beyond the Wall. From up here, there is only the white-topped trees and mountains and the reds and yellows of sunrise. There is no other sound but the breathing of the other handful of tourists and their soft exclamations of awe, and even Tormund, who has been not two feet from her since she arrived, is giving her a respectful distance now to contemplate the view.

"This is beautiful," she says, breathless, and wishes Jaime was also there to see it. She almost jumps out of her skin at the sound of a voice on the other side of her line. 

"_I wish I could be there with you to see it_."

_Jaime_. And he sounds rough and sleepy, as if he had gone to bed with his earbud and has been woken up by her voice. Brienne has turned her comm on again as soon as she was up and dressed for the day's excursion, the darkness outside meaning there shouldn't be anyone on the other side of the line. She had done it out of habit; it was better to do it in private before going out, especially because she was going to meet her mark and didn't want to have to do it later where some observant soul could see it. The line should have been free or monitored by whoever was on the night shift instead of Jaime, who had been with her the entire previous day until she had disconnected in a huff.

"I'm sorry, _again_, wench," Jaime says, surprising her. Why is he apologizing? She's the one who got irritated and cut the communication in such an unprofessional way, she should be the one apologizing. "I keep being an ass because I don't like that guy or the way he looks at you." Brienne hums her acknowledgement, glad that she can't reply now, not with Tormund close enough to hear whatever she says. 

She's beginning to consider her first instinct was correct and Jaime's jealous, ridiculous as it is to believe it. 

It can't be, though, Brienne is Brienne, tall and mannish and ugly, and Jaime is so beautiful it sometimes hurts to look at him. He's her best friend, and Brienne knows she's lucky to have him because neither of them excel at making friends. Brienne has had a few bad experiences in the Academy that have her wary of people, and Jaime's unhealthy attachment to his abusive family doesn't encourage friendships either. Jaime doesn't have any other friends that she knows about, and she knows he's pretty possessive of her time and attention. He's always in her ear the entire time she's out on missions, and they usually go out for dinner or drinks when they are both in King's Landing. She has slept on his couch plenty of times, and he on hers. And if she sometimes thinks longingly of joining him in his bed, she knows better than to do that to herself. That way heartbreak lies. Jaime has women throwing themselves at him continuously, even if he doesn't seem to care much for them, and flirting comes as naturally as breathing to him. Brienne has long got used to ignoring it but now she wonders if maybe she shouldn't.

The tour has started walking over the Wall, the sun already peeking over the cliffs and painting everything golden. The visitors follow Tormund like ducklings, listening attentively to his words. Brienne is lost in her thoughts, though, listening to Jaime's breathing on the other side of the line and wondering whether he's gone back to sleep since nothing is happening and Brienne is not talking to him. 

"This is where the Ice Dragon blasted through," Tormund says, stopping suddenly and Brienne takes the chance to carefully trip over nothing and crash against him. Tormund grabs her by the waist, looking like he has just won the lottery, and Brienne holds onto his neck, sticking one of the bugs under the collar of his work coat. "Careful, you don't want to fall off the Wall."

"Sorry," she mumbles, her face flushing not only because of the cold and Tormund's smile widens. 

"You can fall in my arms all you want," Tormund laughs loudly, he squeezes her waist before releasing her. "I don't mind if you're a bit clumsy."

_'What was that?'_ Jaime says in her ear and now he sounds wide awake. She can't tell him she's started to plant the bugs, she thought on the way that the Wall, with the influx of tourists, was a good place for Tormund to make contact discreetly if needed, and she has decided to bug his work clothes just in case. 

"I'll try not to," Brienne says with a bashful smile. "We're pretty high up."

"How high exactly?" another tourist asks and Tormund gives her a lingering look before launching on an explanation about the ice blocks and the building of the Wall. 

Brienne takes a step back gladly and they continue with the tour. 

As beautiful as the view is from up there, the Wall is the coldest place she's ever been and there is no protection from the wind, even bundled up like she is, the wind had reddened her face and she feels frozen to the bone. Brienne is eager to escape the moment Tormund starts herding them towards the lift, though she stays and is the last one to leave. Tormund smiles at her and traps her inside the lift for a moment. "I have three more tours today," he says, "Meet here tonight? We can have dinner or drinks or anything you want."

"I'm heading down to The Gift tomorrow," she says, infusing her voice with regret.

Tormund crowds her against the wall of the lift. "The more reason to have fun tonight." He leans slowly, closing the distance, and Brienne has enough time to move away or let him. She lets him, because what the hell is she doing here otherwise? She opens to his kiss and even manages a tiny moan of appreciation. 

'_Brienne?_' she hears Jaime on the line. '_What--_'

"I knew you'd taste good," Tormund says, making whatever question Jaime was about to ask redundant, his silence abrupt and telling. Tormund steps aside and lets her out of the lift. "I finish at five, meet at six?"

She nods and leaves, wiping her mouth with her hand the moment her back is turned to him. 

"It's a bit early to start the seduction, isn't it, wench?" Jaime says after a few minutes of silence which have done nothing to help Brienne regain her calm. She has only kissed Tormund and can already tell she won't be able to do anything else, not if the tightness of her throat and the weight in her stomach are any indication. "_Or do you really like them wild_."

And Brienne… Brienne's done. She has barely slept and has just had the tongue on a man she doesn't particularly care for down her throat, has been listening to Jaime blowing hot and cold at her since the moment she took the mission. She doesn't need Jaime's cold voice in her ear reminding her how much he doesn't want her in this one, she needs her head fully in the game for tonight, she can't do it while she's worried about Jaime's attitude towards her. 

"You sound quite jealous," she finally says, giving voice to it so Jaime can refute it and realize how ridiculous he's being and let her get on with the mission.

"_I do, don't I_?" he says, and it sounds tentative and wondering as if he had not intended to admit to it. 

But he hasn't denied it. 

Brienne stops in the middle of the street, barely a few feet from her hotel. "Excuse me?" her voice is a few octaves too high and breaks in the middle, but he can't just say something like that. He can't say something like that when she's a few thousand miles away and has to seduce a man tonight to bug his house. 

She has never wanted to wring his pretty neck as much as she wants now.

"Um," he begins, and he sounds sheepish in a way she has very rarely heard before. She bets anything that if she could see him, he'd be blushing. "forget I said anything, wench."

"Oh no, we will speak about this as soon as I get back," she says low and menacing, and can almost hear him swallowing. No way she's forgetting this, not when he's opened the door to the thing she wants the most. If he was teasing of messing with her, he's going to have to come out and tell her to her face, but she doesn't think he's that cruel. Then she takes a deep breath and continues walking, she has something else to say and he's going to hate it. "But Jaime, you can't be on comms tonight."

She gets into her hotel and goes straight to her room. "What do you mean? Of course I can!" he protests, as she knew he would. 

"You really can't," and she hates the idea of going anywhere with anyone who's not Jaime in her ear. But she can't do it if he's going to be listening, especially after what he has just said. She won't be able to act natural with him listening, will be thinking about him even more than she usually does. "You've been snappish and irritated, and throwing me off my game, and I have only flirted. I can't have you doing that tonight."

"I'll be silent," he vows seriously. Brienne considers for a moment giving in, but she knows it's not a good idea as much as she knows he's physically incapable of keeping silent.

"I can't do it if you're listening," she finally says, and he exhales. She doesn't want him to listen in tonight and not just for herself. She would hate to listen to Jaime in a honeypot, and if the past two days are an example so does he. And Brienne has done little more than flirt back and one kiss. She might need to go a bit further tonight, though hopefully with the pills she'll be able to avoid it. 

She still can't believe he's really jealous, not of Tormund, not because of her, but if he really is, it's better for everyone involved that he's kept away.

"Lannister," a new voice pipes in and Brienne cringes. She knows that voice, and Lady O only calls Jaime by his surname when he's pushed her past the point of irritation and well into fury. "A mission is not the time to discuss your relationship status or lack thereof and the comms are not private channels for your chats. I warned you yesterday, you're officially off this op."

"_Olenna_," he protests uselessly.

"Payne, cut off his earbud." There is only silence on the other side of the line, though Brienne can easily imagine the kind of imprecations that are coming out of his mouth right now. "Tarth, you'll have plenty to discuss with him when you get back, finish your mission tonight and you have a flight back on your name first thing in the morning. And then talk to that boy and put him out of his misery or I might kill him myself. "

Brienne blinks. "Am I not scheduled for the follow-up?"

"No, I'm sending Snow for that or I'll have a mutiny in the Quartermaster section." Brienne doesn't doubt it for a moment, for some reason the Quartermasters adore Jaime, and though Lady O likes to pretend she only suffers him, it's clear she does as well or she wouldn't be recalling Brienne so soon. "Good luck tonight, Tarth. I swear to the Seven, this was an Intelligence Agency, not a matchmaking service, before the two of you came back from the Riverlands."

Brienne blushes so hard she's shocked she's not combusted. "Thanks, Lady O," she chokes out, and then throws herself on the bed and closes her eyes, mortified.

She's going to kill Jaime Lannister. 

And then maybe kiss him. Maybe she's allowed after all. 

…

Jaime's fuming when he storms into Olenna's office to give her a piece of his mind, her secretary rushing inside after him but unable to stop him. 

Inside, the old bint has Jon Snow sitting in one of the chairs with a brief in front of him. The boy, because he's still a boy, turns startled eyes on Jaime who has just crashed their meeting without so much as a knock. 

"_You cut me off_," Jaime snarls, it's easier to be pissed at Olenna for cutting him off than at Brienne for asking him to leave her with P for this mission. 

"Jon, if you don't mind," she says to Snow with a calm nod at the brief. 

Snow picks up his papers and leaves the office with a concerned glance at Jaime. They have worked together a couple of times and Jaime is convinced Snow believes him to be the harmless head of the geek squad. Even knowing he used to be a field agent, and that he can still wipe the floor with most of them on the mats and the shooting gallery, the active agents see nothing more than his few silver hairs and prosthetic, and the guns he provides, and dismiss him as another geek until something happens and Jaime unsheathes his claws. Snow will forget again soon enough, but for now, he's looking warily at him and he gives him wide berth when leaving Olenna's office. 

Jaime feels strangely satisfied by this, at least someone should be impressed by him and is clearly not their boss. 

"Close the door, boy," Olenna says once Snow has left, her secretary has also decided against being the room with them. Smart girl, seems to be learning. She stares at Jaime unflinchingly, hands stapled in front of her face and Jaime fights the urge to fidget. He's come to argue with her the moment his comm has been disconnected, the mix of emotions in him bubbling to the surface, but he's only realizing now he might have made a mistake. 

Like the one he's made admitting to jealousy to Brienne. 

He knows he's being irrational, Brienne is good enough and smart enough to do her job. He also knows the wilding is just that, a job. It's just that listening to the sounds of that wilding putting his paws all over Brienne, listening to the sounds of them kissing and then that one moan that had gone straight to Jaime's blood. 

He wants to be the one pulling those sounds from Brienne, wants to be the one touching and kissing her. So of course, instead of being supportive and guiding her as he does in every mission, he's gone and snapped at her, getting his feelings all over Brienne just when she least needs it. 

He's not even surprised to find out that P, and Olenna, were monitoring the comms as well. He should have known that after she had sent him home last night, Olenna wasn't going to trust him to keep away from it. 

"I warned you I'd take you off the op and you ignored it," Olenna says after the silence has stretched past uncomfortable and well into strained. "I am still the Head of this Agency, and you're lucky I only disconnected you when you defied me so blatantly, and I did not suspend you."

"_It's Brienne's op_," he says, and he's aware of how thin the excuse is, how whiny he really sounds. Everyone knows the only way to get Jaime away from Brienne's ops is when he's unconscious. Everyone but Brienne knows the reason.

Olenna sighs and her posture relaxes a fraction. "I swear to the Seven, I'm too old for this kind of drama," she mutters, eyes narrowed. "I know Tywin and your sister really did a number on you, and I'm willing to cut you some slack because you are surprisingly well-adapted for a Lannister. Boy, open your eyes and see that poor girl is as gone on your as you are on her." Jaime wants to protest again, and Olenna quells him with a look. "But do it when she's not on a mission and your interference can't cause any problem, do you really think you making things harder for that girl is helping?"

Jaime feels his face heat, and he closes his eyes, chastised. "I'm sorry--"

"Apologize to _her_," Olenna says, and her tone means they are done here. "Snow is taking the follow-up from her, Tarth will return tomorrow after she plants all the bugs tonight. You'll get the details of her flight in your email as soon as it's booked, don't fuck up. You mess it up with Tarth, I'm sending you to our office in Volantis to lay cable and upgrade their old computers, am I making myself clear?" 

Jaime smiles widely at her. He knew the old bint liked him deep down. "Crystal."

"Now go, you have a branch to run and many other duties that don't involve mooning over Tarth."

He leaves, not minding much he's not got a word in edgewise, is bad mood at her interference gone. Brienne is coming back the next day, and they have a conversation pending. 

He enters his office and finds a note next to his earbud, written on Pod's chicken scratch. 

He debates whether to take it or not; he really doesn't want to listen to his wench making out with someone else, but he already knows she's going to do it and not knowing what's happening will drive him even more insane. _"One way only._" This way he won't distract Brienne, but he can still make sure he gets out of there unharmed. 

Jaime smiles and puts the earbud on again, he has his people well trained. 

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case there was any doubt, yes, Olenna is collecting the betting pool they certainly have going in the office, she's not that generous person :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! At least for now. Might visit this universe after I finish, or when I get stuck, the next fic.

Tormund has her pressed against the door the moment they enter his apartment, all eager hands and sloppy mouth, like he has thought of nothing but this since this morning. Brienne lets him slobber all over her mouth and face for a minute and makes the appropriate noises of enjoyment, at least according to the movies, her hands clamped on his hair while his has gone with unerring aim to her ass. She's uncannily reminded of her neighbour's labrador, an overenthusiastic puppy who likes to lick her face and run around her when he sees her, and once tried to chew on Jaime's prosthetic, much to his dismay at all that slobber on the delicate circuitry. At least Tormund's breath is better, though his kiss is doing about as much for Brienne as Shaggy's usually do. 

Actually, she much prefers the dog. 

She moves her hands to Tormund's chest and pushes him away the moment his goes from her ass to her breast and hopes he hasn't felt her stiffening against him. "You promised me dinner and a drink," she says with what she hopes is a coy smile, her voice low and slightly raspy. "I _am_ starving." 

She was when she arrived, that's true, though now she'd be surprised if she can choke down some food. She's nervous like she has never been during a mission, and the lack of Jaime in her ear is not helping her calm down. She knows the other agents would tell her she's being ridiculous, these are just some kisses and light groping, she's not a maid in the Targaryen era and nobody expects a woman her age to be holding onto her virginity. It's not as she's a virgin by choice, not really. Yes, she might have decided to tell that Hyle toad to piss off after she had learned about the bet, and she broke Red Ronnet's nose for pretty much the same reason, but she didn't choose to be born ugly and undesirable, she would have loved to be normal. She might be ugly but she has her pride and doesn't want a man who doesn't want her.

Tormund does want her, at least for a fuck, and she should be happy with that and enjoy this chance but Tormund's not Jaime, and she's not happy with having sex for a mission. 

Brienne forcibly pulls her mind away from Jaime and back on what she's doing, she doesn't need more distractions today. She's already been unable to think about anything but Jaime since this morning.

"Oh woman, I want to eat _you_," Tormund says, leaning forward and licking her mouth, his eyes almost black with arousal, his lips swollen and shiny with spit. Keeping the smile on her face is the hardest thing Brienne has done. "But I'm no liar." He moves away from her with a big, salacious smile and Brienne can finally breathe. 

She takes stock of the apartment. It's not big, there's hardly any furniture and what little she can see is old and mismatched, carelessly assembled and screaming temporary to anyone who cares to look. The kitchen is open plan, and it looks as sparsely furnished as the living room, a few take away menus pinned to the fridge and some dirty dishes in the sink. Tormund opens the fridge and grabs two beers and then picks up one of the menus. "Pizza?"

Brienne nods, cursing her luck when Tormund just opens the bottles and hands them, no glasses. Dropping the pill in his beer is going to be a challenge. "No anchovies, everything else I don't mind." She makes a point of looking around. "Toilet?" she asks, and Tormund points at one of the doors on the far side of the room. 

The moment she's inside she presses her back against the door and takes some deep breaths. She's an agent, and a damned good one, and she's not going to let a few sloppy kisses from a guy upset her in this way. "You can do this, Brienne," she mutters under her breath, "just think he's someone else." _Jaime_, her brain supplies not so helpfully. 

"Mister Lannister," Pod agrees in her ear, even less helpfully. She blushes deep red that apparently everyone in the Quartermaster section knows about her infatuation, and Lady O as well. She's never not going to be mortified by that, but it has the effect of calming her a bit. 

"Thank you for your input, P," she whispers as dryly as she can.

With a sigh, she takes the pills from their packaging and puts one in her pocket. She will have to think about how to get it inside the bottle while they eat, but at least she has the time to figure it out without having to make out. Since she's already here, she places a bug on the cabinet over the sink, though she doubts anything will come out of it and pities the poor tech who needs to listen in that one. She flushes and washes her hands, aware she's been in there too long already, and takes another deep breath before going outside to rejoin her host. 

She takes the beer from his hand and places a quick peck on his lips that make him beam. She's beginning to feel bad for him, nobody has ever felt that happy to be with her before. "Food's on the way," he says, sitting on the couch and patting the spot next to him. Brienne takes it and he's on her immediately, kissing her again and pushing her back. She makes a winded noise while he explores her mouth with his tongue, her beer falling from her hand and on the floor. 

She pushes him away, a contrite look on her face. "I'm so sorry," she says, and Tormund laughs. 

"You really are clumsy, woman. No worries, I'll clean it." He stands up and puts his beer on the coffee table while he goes get a mop, and Brienne takes the chance to put the pill inside his beer before he comes back. "Can I get a kiss for my hard work?" he says and Brienne complies, happy there won't be many more of those.

Tormund is back with a new beer for Brienne in a minute, and eager to get back to what he was doing. He's not a bad guy, if she ignores the fact that he's dealing in wildfire, but he's not interested at all in Brienne beyond her body. He's not asked her a single question about her life or her interests, and every time she has tried to ask him about his he's deflected, clearly not one for conversation. And he keeps calling her woman, which makes her wonder if he's already forgotten her name or never cared enough to remember it in the first place. She's relieved when after a couple of minutes he slumps on top of her, completely insensate to the world. 

And they haven't even got the pizza yet.

She pushes him off her and stands up. "He's out," she says, voice still barely above a whisper. "I'll get to work." Brienne goes to his room and straight to his computer, which she turns on. "Bran, I'm on the computer."

"Please use the USB drive, I'll take care of the rest," Bran's monotone voice says, and Brienne wonders if the entire department is listening in on her mission. She wonders where Jaime is, and how upset he is that she requested him off comms tonight. She wonders what she'll say to him tomorrow, and what he's going to say to her after admitting what he has admitted. Will he try to pass it as a joke or will he own up to it?

She also wonders what the hell she's doing in the freezing Wall for a two-day mission that anyone could have done if all it was required of her was planting some bugs. Why the seduction when ten minutes in the room, while he was at work, would have been enough? "The follow up included getting Tormund to deflect, Agent Tarth, hence the seduction," Lady O's voice interrupts her musings and she almost chokes on air. She has been muttering loud enough for the earbud to pick this up, this mission is officially the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to her. "Snow's taking over for you or we risk the brat going there and compromising the mission. If I had known he was such a hothead I'd have assigned another agent from the beginning, though you would be pussyfooting around each other for another decade."

She's saved from saying anything by a knock on the door and she opens it with a wary look at Tormund, who's now drooling on the couch. It's just food delivery, and she takes it and puts in on the table, grabbing a slice for herself while she continues working. No reason to let the food go to waste, and now she doesn't have Tormund's mouth on her she's feeling peckish again. 

She finishes planting the bugs in a few minutes and with a last look at Tormund, Brienne grabs a couple more slices of pizza before she leaves.

This mission might have been a complete waste of time and the most embarrassing that she's ever gone through, but it has been enlightening. 

She can't wait to get back to King's Landing. 

...

Jaime's waiting for Brienne at the airport because he can't wait in the office like a normal person, and there's a reason Olenna gave him the details of the flight, the crafty old bat. He can't even be angry for her interference since he knows they would still be pussyfooting around each other without it, as she had so delightfully put the night before.

He knows he shouldn't have listened to her during the mission, and if Brienne finds out after she asked him not to she's going to be angry with him. Angrier, since he imagines she already has reasons to be. He had been unable to keep himself from it, though, and he's glad Pod had not given him the option to talk or he'd have many things to say. That Tormund had not been exactly a gentleman, pushing her and trying to fuck her the moment they were behind a closed door, but it had been the stuff before that had really ticked Jaime off. The man had ignored any overture of conversation from the moment he had met with Brienne to the moment they were alone together, and that was just bad manners. Even Jaime knows better than not even pretend to be interested; if you really don't care for your partner beyond a fuck, you still talk to them about books or movies or inconsequential things, you talk to them to make them think they're more than a warm body to park your cock. Tormund had not even called Brienne by her name once, and Jaime had bristled at the clear disrespect. 

But that was done, Tormund was back at the Wall, probably nursing a headache thanks to the pills and wondering what the hell he drank the previous night to get so drunk, and Brienne should have landed already. He can't wait to see her again, it has barely been two days without her and it feels like ages since he last saw her towering form and astonishing blue eyes. He can't imagine what he'd have done if she'd had to stay in the North, follow here there probably.

Then the sliding door opens and she's suddenly there, looking tired and done, and once she sees him so gloriously annoyed, but she's finally here. Jaime feels giddy just seeing her face. 

She makes a beeline for him. "Jaime," she says with a curt nod and an arched eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Brienne." He extends his hand chivalrously for her bag, the prosthetic, and she snorts and rolls her eyes, ignoring him like he knew she would. "Lady O kicked me out of the office and sent me to get you."

"Afraid I'd lose my way before I get back for the debrief?" She asks, and oh yes, she's still angry with him. "Or that I can't find a cab on my own?"

"Of course not, wench," he said with his most charming smile. "I'm apologizing for being an ass during these past days. And she was very close to sending an agent to murder me so I stopped annoying her." He had been unable to stop himself, too wound up to pay attention to her briefing or any job he had to do. Luckily he had no missions to run, just some tinkering, but Olenna had kicked him out of the labs before he could set something on fire.

"You should consider not being an ass, then," she says, but Jaime can hear the fondness in her exasperated tone. "Then you wouldn't have to apologize." 

She follows him outside to his car, a flashy red convertible she has sometimes called penis extension but which he knows she secretly loves. It was a present from his brother, the one member of his dysfunctional family he's still in contact with, which is the only reason he hasn't got rid of the thing. She's right that the car is too flashy and might give people the wrong idea about him; Jaime's quite happy with his cock and doesn't need to compensate for anything, thank you very much.

They don't speak on the drive, the tension in the car reaching levels he's unused to with her; they don't do silences, and when there is one Jaime always feels the urge to fill it, usually with sarcasm and snark and that would be a very bad idea right now. He turns on the radio, and Brienne shots him a look, her brow furrowed, but keeps silent. He sees out of the corner of his eye how she clenches and unclenches her hands on her knees, her eyes darting to him every few seconds. Jaime opens his mouth and sees her tense, then closes it, thinking better of it. He steps on the accelerator, they both feel the need to talk about what's happened these past two days but they know the car is not the place. He takes a right turn off the main road and Brienne's eyebrows shot up her forehead. 

"We're not going to the office." It's not a question.

"No." 

They lapse into silence again, the radio playing bland songs they are not listening to, Jaime's good hand white-knuckling the steering wheel. He arrives at Brienne's flat in record time, he's probably broken a few driving laws and hopes there weren't any cameras around those red lights he just ignored. 

She looks at her apartment block and then at him, "You're coming up." Again, it's not a question. It's not even an invitation but an order, Jaime just nods and complies. 

He's very tempted to press Brienne against the door and kiss her the moment it's closed like that wilding had done, except he's certain she will punch him if he tries. Unlike with Tormund, she's not obligated to kiss him for work, and unlike Tormund, Jaime cares for her so much more than a simple fuck.

"So," she begins, dropping her bag on one side of the entrance and proceeding to her living room. "You've been an ass."

Jaime can do nothing but follow her. "I have." She just stares at him, waiting, and Jaime wants to laugh. "You're going to make me say it?" he asks, almost pleadingly. She keeps just staring at him, unbending, and Jaime sighs. "I'm sorry, wench, I was an ass to you because I was jealous."

Brienne lets out a slow shuddering sigh, some of the tension coiled in her body leaving her and Jaime curses himself for a fool. Of course she made him say it, she must have believed he was teasing her or that he was going to take it back the moment she confronted him. Jaime tends to forget that Brienne doesn't see herself the way he sees her. 

"Why would you be jealous?" She asks then, proving his point.

"_Why wouldn't I?_" Jaime refrains from rolling his eyes like the asshole he is. "Brienne, I've been flirting with you for an entire year, so excuse me if the idea of you having to seduce and make out, and maybe sleep with, another guy makes me jealous."

Her eyes have been growing wider and wider as he speaks. "No, you haven't. I would know if you've flirted with me."

"You obviously don't, because I have." And he hasn't even been subtle about it, to the point Agent Stark had laughed at him and called them oblivious idiots when his flirting was rebuffed with Brienne's usual impatience.

Brienne shots him a stern look. "You flirt with everyone, Jaime, all the women in the office throw themselves at you."

He sighs, he should have remembered before now it was Brienne he was dealing with. "No, I really, really don't. They flirt with me, I only flirt with you."

She looks at him uncomprehending. "But why? I'm not pretty or delicate like them."

"And if I wanted pretty and delicate I could have them. _I don't_." He looks at Brienne seriously, a frisson of trepidation coursing through him. Well, if flirting, subtle or unsubtle, has no effect on her, Jaime will need to come out and say it point-blank. "_I want you_. I want you because you're strong and brave and yet you're gentle. You put up with my shit like nobody has before and yet take no shit from me, you care nothing for my name or fortune, and have the most amazing eyes in the world. I want you because your legs are infinite and I want to feel what it's to be between them, and I want to kiss your lips and count the million freckles on your face and body. I want you because you suck at scrabble but kill at sudoku, and you help me finish crosswords when I get stuck and never call me stupid for mixing my letters. I want you because you laugh the loudest out of anyone I've ever met and when you throw your head back I want to bite your neck and make you moan. I want you because you will come with me to the Pentoshi restaurant downstairs even if you don't like Pentoshi food, and you are the only person who never flinches when I touch you with my right hand. I want you because you made me feel like a person again when I was at my lowest point and because the only thing you've ever wanted from me was what that most people didn't think I still had, _honour_. I don't care if you're taller and broader than me, beauty is subjective and to me you are beautiful," he takes a deep breath, he can keep going for days on all the things about her he loves, but she's looking overwhelmed just with this. "I just want you and I think we've been pussyfooting around for too long, it's time you know."

She has been flushing darker and darker the more he spoke, her mouth slightly opened and her breath coming out choppy, her eyes shiny and wide, her pupils engulfing the beautiful blue surrounding them. Then she narrows her eyes sharply at him. "_Pussyfooting_?"

Oops. Jaime cringes. 

"You were listening last night. After I asked you not to. _You were listening_."

Jaime raises his hands in a placating manner. "In my defence, it was just a one-way channel so I wouldn't distract you."

"I asked you not to, not only for me but for you. Did you enjoy the show?" 

She's back on the defensive like he knew she would. "No, I didn't particularly enjoy the show because I knew you weren't there by choice, and I also knew you have little experience with men, and I honestly didn't like the guy. I didn't like that he only called you '_Woman'_ and that he didn't seem to care for anything but sticking his tongue into you. But I needed to know what was happening or I would drive myself crazy imagining worst-case scenarios."

She looks at him for a heartbeat too long before she sighs, long and heartfelt, and any hardness leaves her features. Jaime can see she's tired, the trips and the mission and the time zone differences would exhaust anyone. "You are the most contrary and irritating man on the entire Seven Kingdoms, you know that?"

He smiles at the fondness in her tone. "And you wouldn't have me any other way."

Brienne takes a step towards him, closing the distance between them, her eyes intent on his. "No, you're right, I wouldn't."

He does the same until they are so close the only thing he sees is the blue of her eyes. Jaime can feel the heat of her body and her breath on his face, and he wants to say something but finds that words have deserted him. He puts his hands on her waist and she puts hers on his shoulders and they keep staring at each other. Jaime's eyes flicker to her lips, so enticingly close, but he's enjoying the moment of expectation here, the tension building up. He wonders who is going to close the last inch of distance between the two of them, and it's not really surprised when it's Brienne who takes the last step. She was always the braver of the two of them. 

She presses her lips to his, tentatively at first, softly, and then, when Jaime pushes himself on his tiptoes to reach her better, she opens up to him. Her mouth is as delicious and warm as he had imagined before, and Jaime could keep exploring it forever, learning her taste and feel, pressed against her body this way. Much too soon they part for air, and Brienne is deliciously flushed, the blush crawling down her neck. This time, Jaime will see how far down it goes, a question that has kept him awake longer than it should.

But first, "So, how does it compare to the wilding?" he can't resist asking, a whisper against the skin of her neck before he presses his lips there and starts sucking a mark like the possessive asshole he is.

Brienne moans and shudders. "You don't make me think of Shaggy, so I like you better," she says, her voice low. 

Jaime stops and tilts his head to look at her incredulously. "Shaggy, the slobber monster downstairs?"

"Mmhh," she agrees and Jaime starts laughing, pressing nipping kisses to the place where her skin is already turning a fetching purple. She winds her hands on his hair and holds his head steady before dipping down for another searing kiss, this time taking full control of it, and the only thing Jaime can do is hold on to her. She's a very quick study.

When they part this time he's the one feeling a bit weak in the knees and she's smiling down at him, still flushed, her eyes dark with arousal. He starts pulling her jacket down her shoulders and she follows his lead. The next kiss Jaime doesn't know who started it, and after that, he loses count of how many they share while their clothes get carelessly discarded on the floor. 

"Wait," he says when they start moving to her bedroom. Jaime has lost his shirt somewhere, and her hands on his bare skin are making thought difficult. He's so hard it feels there's no blood left above his waist, but this needs saying. "I don't want you just for this. We don't have to--"

She smiles at him, her shirt hanging from one wrist and trailing behind them, her bra askew where Jaime was trying to get to her breast before he got distracted by a particularly attractive cluster of freckles. "I know that. I don't want to stop."

"Good." 

He presses his mouth to her breast through the bra, sucking on her nipple and relishing the little quake it causes on her body, a loud moan filling the room and making his cock throb. She rips her shirt from her arm and unties her bra, letting it also fall to the floor and Jaime renews his attack on her breast, this time without the fabric to muffle the sensations. Her skin is the same blotchy pink there as her face, the clour crawling even lower. Jaime pushes at her until she's pressed against the wall next to her bedroom door, her hands clutching his shoulders, her head thrown back. He keeps kissing even lower, his good hand moving reluctantly from her breast to her waist, pulling at the waistband of her skirt and knickers and following them down until he's on his knees looking up at her. She's wide-eyed and flushed, wild-looking and so fucking perfect he can't help himself. He presses his mouth against the mound of her sex, dipping his tongue between her folds for his first taste. She shouts and grabs his hair, pulling until he stands. He wonders if he's done something wrong until she kisses him, punishingly hard. "_Bed_," she moans, "or I'll end up on the floor."

They get inside her room and Jaime discards the rest of his clothes before joining her on her bed. He's never been so hard and so impatient to be inside someone in his life, but he takes the time to just look at her as she's sprawled on the bed, naked. There are miles and miles of freckled skin he needs to explore with tongue and hand, from her shapely legs and perfect ass to her taut stomach and small breast and that long pale neck. There's some trepidation on her face when he reaches it, his scrutiny probably awakening her insecurities again. 

"Gods, you make me so hard," he says, and her eyes go straight to his cock for a second, before going back to his face. "You're perfect, I want to taste you. Can I?"

She nods, biting her lip, and spreads her legs for him to burrow between them. Jaime uses his hand first this time, rubbing two fingers between her folds, finding her wet and slippery and so very hot. He looks at her while he rubs her clit and she moans, her back arching, and then presses his fingers inside of her. He bends his head to suck and lick at her clit and her screams of pleasure are the best thing he's ever heard. "Jaime, oh Gods, Jaime," she moans his name and pulls at his hair, her legs clamped on his ears and he knows she's close to coming and wants to be the first man to ever give her this kind of pleasure. Wants to be the only man to ever hear her like this and taste her and see her stunning eyes almost black with arousal and her body taut with pleasure. He crooks his fingers inside her and sucks on her clit and can feel her body spasming, her drawn-out moan almost making him come. 

She's still shaking when he crawls up from between her legs to kiss her, and she opens to him happily, sharing her own taste from his tongue. They kiss languidly while she catches her breath, her hands moving up and down his back, one of her legs moving between his to press against his aching cock. Jaime pulls his mouth away and groans. 

"I want everything, Jaime," she says against his cheek and moves her legs until he's nestled between them, his cock brushing her wet folds. 

"Are you sure?"

"_Everything_."

He can't deny her, not when he might die of frustration if he doesn't get relief soon. He holds himself against her entrance and sinks in slowly, careful of the fact that it's her first time, but she's wet and relaxed enough that there's barely any resistance, and her face betrays nothing but a twinge of discomfort before he's bottomed out. Jaime has to take a moment to just pant against her neck lest he comes like a teenager during their first time; he's close to forty, he should have the endurance of experience, but it's been too long and nothing has ever felt this good. He starts moving slowly, relishing the grip she has on him and how warm she is, Brienne grabs his head and turns it to her, kissing him at the same time as she moves her hips against him urging him on. "Faster," she says against his mouth. "Harder, I'm not petite or delicate, remember?"

He wants to protest, she might not be petite or delicate, but she deserves gentleness. But she's asked for harder and faster, and she will always get whatever she asks of him. He complies, and she moves in perfect harmony with him, their bodies synchronized in the same way they are when they fight. They kiss and kiss until they lack the coordination needed for it, gripping each other tight and panting into each other's mouth as they race to their climax. 

_I love you_, he thinks but manages to keep behind his teeth right before he comes. It's not the way she should hear those words for the first time, though he doesn't doubt he'll be saying them before the night is out. She shudders against him, coming for the second time. Jaime kisses her softly and withdraws from her, falling on his side on the bed, their bodies still touching as much as possible. 

"That was--" she starts but just trails off and he can't blame her. He doesn't have the words either to describe it. 

"Yes."

She turns to look at him with a smile and a mischievous glint in her eye. "You're definitely better than Shaggy."

And Jaime can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him at that, Brienne laughing as well. 

He's going to need to thank Olenna for this, and she's going to be smug and insufferable, but he can't be upset about it. Not if this is the result. 

Maybe he will get her chocolates. It's a nice gesture, and if he remembers correctly, she hates them.

…

Olenna looks at the door when her secretary enters her office without knocking. She places a bag of silver and gold dragons on her desk and drops to the chair in front of Olenna. 

"That was genius, Grandma," she says, her meek persona discarded now the two of them are alone. It had been Margaery's idea to pass as her secretary for a while while she learned the ropes, and Olenna had agreed with her, it's always amusing seeing her agents around her granddaughter without knowing it's her, and she gets the best gossip. "I can't believe those two were so oblivious."

"_Agents_," Olenna admits with a long suffering sigh. Sometimes being head of the agency is like herding cats, and sometimes is like caring for toddlers, but the job in itself is rewarding enough. Even when she doesn't win the betting pools everyone thinks she doesn't know about.

"There is one thing I don't get, though," Margaery says and Olenna arches an eyebrow to get her to continue. "You had already briefed Snow before sending Tarth, so why send her just to plant some bugs?"

"I sent Tarth because I knew how Lannister was going to react," he admits. "She almost died on her last missions and he still didn't confess how he felt. He was hovering over her for the following month and she didn't catch on. It was getting ridiculous and affecting morale in the Quartermaster section. I knew exactly how far she would go with the wildling, and had an extraction in place in case things went south."

Margaery laughs, head thrown back on her chair and big guffaws shaking her entire frame. Olenna can't do anything but smile at her. "I thought this wasn't a matchmaking service, Grandma."

"It's not, but if left to their own devices they would never get anywhere. And there is nothing worse than frustrated agents." If Margaery is to inherit Olenna's position as head of the agency with time, she needs to learn this. "Who's next?"

"Missandei and Grey Worm." Of course, those two had been making eyes at each other for almost as long as Lannister and Tarth, though they are not half as irritating. Nobody is half as irritating as Lannister. 

She just hopes Tarth will at least make him a bit more bearable to be around, though she fears he's now going to be irritating and smug. Well, Lannister is not her problem anymore, she has more agents to pair up and more bets to win. 

"Let's see what we have for them."

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, Tormund is recruited by Jon Snow and his first visit to headquarters he can't understand why the geek squad is so hostile towards him, especially that pretty boy Lannister. He chalks it up to them disapproving of his relationship with Snow, folks down south are weird and care about those kinds of things, true men in the North know the important thing is the person not what they have between their legs.  
He never sees Brienne, who had requested a mission just so she wouldn't even bump into him. Jon never tells him the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of Dubious Consent.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Thank you, Mr Giantsbane](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20862317) by [escapisthero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapisthero/pseuds/escapisthero)


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